An Angel in the Garden
by Raudhr Blodhgarm
Summary: This Angel has a tale to tell. Sometimes he's scary. Sometimes he's loving. But one thing is constant in his life: He enjoys his sense of humor. I live with an Angel in my garden. And sometimes he scares me. Sometimes he hugs me. But one things is certain: He's got swag.
1. Chapter 1

**An Angel in the Garden**

Every day, for as long as I can remember, I've found notes in my garden. Not strewn near the door, or where any could find them, but hidden. I might find the words written in leaves "In the pot." I'd go look in the flower pot, where we keep putting new plants in after the old ones die, and there would be my note. Just a little message, something that could only be for me.

One day, I got lost. London's big, okay? And it isn't as easy as they say. Why don't you just follow Big Ben, you ask? You can get lost in New York City! Why don't you just follow the Empire State Building, huh? Sorry. I get worked up about that.

Once I got home, I found a few birdseeds arranged so that they spelled "In your ear." Well, "N ur eer." Apparently, my mysterious mate isn't the best at spelling. Maybe they're better at maths.

Anyways, I stared at it for a while, but the wind obscured it. Stupid Mother Nature gives me no respect.

I figured I'd gone absolutely insane. Well, I'd figured for about the umpteenth time that I'd gone completely insane. I mean, have you not heard what I've been talking about? Yeah, pretty crazy stuff.

So I turned away, shrugged, felt something on my ear. UNACCEPTABLE. Maybe you'd just figure it was a leaf.

You don't live with a freakin' crying angel in your garden, do you?

Did I mention that? I think I forgot that. Well, there's this big, life-sized angel in my garden. And he's always crying. What is with the bloke, anyways? And he just sits there, crying. It's the goddamn creepiest thing you've ever seen. When I was a baby I used to not like it. I felt like it was watching me. Yeah, I was a bundle of laughs.

But anyways, back to, you know, the part where the anonymous stalker is touching my ear. I flipped out. I swatted my ear, looked around and stuff, nothing there, but something WAS IN MY EAR. Okay, creepy right? But I trusted my mate, whoever the hell he was, (No, I'm not stupid, I had guessed it was the angel, but it never moved, and I'd asked it LOADS of times, and again, it never moved.) so I picked up what I had knocked off my ear.

A map. A map of bloody LONDON. And my note said "Just follow Big Ben. Kidding. Well, looks like you're directionally challenged. Have a map. And how 'bout a watch? You were late. I got lonely."

Now, I'm not crazed. I promise. Well, maybe just a tiny bit. But this was real. And I had trudged through the legendary weather of London (Heads up, it rains all the time), and my feet were sore, and here was some anonymous bloke telling me how I was "Directionally challenged." I threw the map on the ground.

"I don't need your bloody help! I got here didn't I! Didn't I?" I looked at the angel. "Was this you? I bet it was you. You leave the notes, don't ya?" I demanded.

I looked over at the house, and my little brother had chosen this excellent moment to stare at me, flabbergasted. "Mum! She's going nutters again!" He called.

"Leave your sister alone!" she yelled back. "Look at me, I'm an angel, aren't I scary?" My brother mocked me, covering his eyes like the angel.

Now, keep in mind, the angel was behind me, my back to it, and my brother could see it over my shoulder.

When he took his hands off his eyes, he almost jumped out of his skin, I swear. Screamed and everything. He stammered, pointing at the statue.

I turned around.

Just crying on his pedestal, as always. I might be crying if I had to stand on that piece of rock all day. I looked back at my brother.

"Apparently, he is scary. Don't you have, like, second grade to be failing?" I asked.

He stuttered. "It moved. I swear it moved! I had its hands all out like" he stuck his hands out with his fingernails pointing out, snarling, "and it had crazy sharp teeth, and it was kinda like, smiling! You don't believe me, do you? It did!" he ran off, screaming about it.

I shook my head. "And I'm the mad one." I muttered. Thing is, I turn around, and there's a note in the angels fingers. He's still crying, but wedged in between the stone is a slip of paper. I stared at it.

"You really are alive." I marveled for a second. Then I shook my head. Yes.

I most definitely was the mad one.

I grabbed the note, looked at it, and would you look at that, familiar handwriting, "Hey mate. Well, don't mind your brother. He's really quite annoying. But you like him, deep down, so I leave him alone. Except, you know, I decided to kinda scare him this time. Sorry about that." I peered at the angel.

"You do know that that's creepy to us humans, right?" I asked it. "And now I'm talking to a statue." I turned away, getting ready to leave, but obviously, I had the temptation to turn around. I mean, wouldn't you?

And of course, I expected the thing to be ready to jump on me and tear me apart slowly. Nope. It just kinda sat there, as always.

"No answer?" I asked it. It didn't respond, so I jogged away. And naturally, the door closed behind me without me touching it.

"Nice. You're a gentleman too." I said without turning around. I kind of felt like being a BA right now. I sauntered into my room and stared at the notes.

"Hey mom, got any thumb tacks?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure." She gave me one of those little plastic containers that would be DAMN painful to shove your hand in. I tacked up the map and the notes.

That's what I've done since.

And the next day, when I went outside, I got a pretty funny surprise.


	2. Chapter 2

**An Angel in the Garden**

**Hello, my marshmallows! I come to say that I LOVE REVIEWERS! Your faces surpass all others! Now, the time has come to recognize you nice, nice people.**

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I walked outside that day, and what was there, but the angel. Well durr de hurr. It's a statue. It doesn't just run around and go to clubs while I'm gone. At least, I think so.

More to the point, there it was, crying its eyes out, but the interesting thing is, it had sunglasses.

Obviously, as I pointed out, it had slabs of rock pretending to be hands covering its eyes. So the sunglasses weren't actually being worn. They hung on his ears, the lenses resting on his hairline. I considered it.

"Hey Jack!" I called to my brother.

"What…" he edged outside, his eyes trained on the angel.

"Did you put those sunglasses on the statue?" I asked. He sort of glared at me while still looking at the angel.

"Do you think I would put something on that freaky thing?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Well, maybe you had some weird theory about how the materials making up the sunglasses would bleed into its brain, somehow rendering it immobile. Which would be unnecessary. As it's a statue. It's already immobile." I pointed out in my best posh accent.

He glared at me. "You'll see. It'll get you!" he yelled.

"Go back to making your tinfoil hats, and preparing for the alien apocalypse why don't you?" I quipped.

He took his index finger and his middle finger, pointed at his eyes, then at the angel. "I'm watching you…" he said as he edged away.

I shrugged. "Yikes." I turned back to the angel.

Lo and behold, for once in his life, my brother was right.

The thing moved.

The same statue I had lived with my whole life, the same dull grey colour, but this time, his hands were making finger guns at me. I kid you not, finger guns. Like your thumb is the hammer, your index finger is the barrel? Yeah.

That.

And he was smirking at me, the sunglasses now on his face. I just kinda stared for a second.

"Erm…" I blanked out. I mean, how do you respond to that? I followed where he was aiming at with his fingers.

A note was laying on the ground. I glanced back at the angel, who hadn't moved. I picked it up.

It read "Hola, mis amigo! In case you don't know, that means "hello, my friend" in Spanish. Well, now that your brother is a full blown conspiracy theorist, I would recommend leaving pictures of me, (Duh, I'm the angel,) around the house. Just to keep him on his toes. Well, here's how it works. My race is known as 'The Weeping Angels.' Why have you never seen me move before? I can only move when I'm not being observed by any living being. It's called quantum locking. I actually DON'T EXIST when anybody's looking at me. So yeah, I've technically never been seen. By the way, if you want to hold a conversation, mind using a blindfold? It's pretty annoying when you keep looking at me and asking me questions and I can't say ANYTHING. So stop it. In order to have a voice I would have to rip the vocal cords out of a human being and use them, but I'm guessing you don't like that idea, so I'll just use a pencil. Which I have a hoard of. But anyways, if you don't mind having conversations with me, I like 'em, being as my race is called the Lonely Assassins. Haha, now you're gonna squirm because you know I'm right behind you. It's okay, that's because we feed off potential energy. A trick we've learned is to send people back in time, and let them live themselves to death. They get a full life, and we get all the energy that would have been used in their future. I like to see it as a new start. No, before you ask, I don't intend on doing that to YOU. Last time I fed was when your dog was going to the pound, remember? Yeah, I sent him back in time to give him a new start. And I was hungry. So I got a nice little meal, he got free from the pound, all that jazz. If you have any other questions, close your eyes, ask me, give it about two seconds, and I should have answered."

In case you're wondering why I didn't separate that into paragraphs, it's because my mate didn't. Okay? Okay.

Now what do I do?

Because I am a perfectly logical and rational being, I decide to laugh.

I look back at him. His eyebrows are raised and he's looking at me like an idiot.

"Sorry, sorry." I raise my hands. I blink, not even realizing it, and suddenly, he's up in my personal space, grinning.

I don't know what my brother was talking about. No sharp teeth.

I growled at him. "Don't make me blow my rape whistle." I threaten. I kind of turn back and he tears my shirt. THE NERVE. I spin back. "Look, bugger off! I don't want to get all intimate in the middle of my garden." I snap.

Then I realized how mad this is. This can't be happening. It can't.

I won't lie. I broke down and cried. Not a girly cry, mind you. But I had a good cry.

I felt a strip of cloth cover my eyes and tie around my head. I look around and realize he blindfolded me.

"Oh, I get it." I huff. "Could of warned me. In my culture, ripping off somebody's shirt is not acceptable in public."

I hear scratching and I peek through my blindfold at the note. "Sorry. In my culture, clothes are just a disguise. I didn't know it worked like that here."

I stare at what I think is his general direction. "You actually didn't know that you can't just randomly take off my clothes?"

More scratching.

"Turn around, ya silly. No. I didn't. But don't you have humany wumany stuff to be doing?" I pull off the blindfold and try to sneak into the house.

I glance back at him, but he's on his pedestal, crying. I have the notes with me and my blindfold.

"Who were you talking to?" My mum asks, tapping a ladle lightly on her hand. "I was making babies with my boyfriend. Who do you think?" I ask tiredly.

"WHAT?" My mom shrieks.

"Not really!" I cry. "Damn, you shriek loud. I was just talking."

My mom glares. "About ripping off your shirt? Yeah, I'm sure there wasn't an ulterior motive. Go to room."

I trudge to my room, grumbling "I'm not three, Mom." But on the bright side, I'm now in my room, I have my notes, and my mom didn't notice my ruined shirt.

I tack up the notes and change shirts. It's a pretty simple T-shirt that reads 'I believe in Nargles.' Well, after all this stress, I decide to listen to Adele. For the hell of it.

A few songs later, I must say, I don't appreciate the way ALL of her songs are about boys.

Well, all's well that ends well.

If you can apply that to being violated by an alien statue.

Well, this is me, signing off my journal. Nah, I'm just kidding.

Now, keep in mind, right now I'm snorting at my own wit, when I hear a big bang. I run out of my room and look outside. What I saw, I will never forget.


End file.
